by Jackie Ivie
“You always were a snake, Giles,” Aunt Evelyn said. “’Tis why the clan sent you out. Away.”
He nodded and then shrugged. “Clan Caruth is too small for my talents, Aunt. You ken that.”
“Please, Giles?”
Dallis looked toward the clock on one of the tables. The one Payton must have positioned while he’d been waiting for her. So he’d have advance warning of how much time they’d have.
“Nae need to plead, dearest cousin. I’ve come to make certain your disloyalty stays hidden. You have my word.”
“Of what use is the word of a scoundrel and a cheat?” Aunt Evelyn hissed the words.
“You really need to ask our aunt to keep a civil tongue, if you wish me to keep mine, Dallis. You truly do.”
“Aunt Evelyn?” Dallis moved her eyes to her aunt, and silently pleaded.
“Doona’ listen to him, Dallis. Tell Payton yourself. He is a fair man. He might even find the humor in it.”
“Nae,” Dallis replied and put her hands up to hold to her aunt’s. “I canna’ take that chance.”
“He’ll be angered. Enraged. But it will pass. Trust me on this, lass.”
“Please, Aunt Evelyn?”
“Doona’ let this—this—”
“Careful, Aunt Evelyn,” Giles warned.
“Doona’ do something more you’ll regret, Dallis lass. I’ll hold my tongue.”
“Then, mayhap you’ll also hold it verra far from me,” Giles requested.
Dallis squeezed at her aunt’s hands and beseeched her silently with her eyes. Lady Evelyn finally smiled, but the gesture was as sad as her eyes.
“Verra well. I will be at the door. In my usual place. I will try na’ to interfere.”
Dallis watched her walk away before lowering her empty hands to place them atop the enormity of her belly. Then she turned back to Giles.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I need funds.”
“I truly have none, Giles. I swear.”
“He’s been earning pay. With his exhibitions. I want some of that.”
“The king keeps me prisoner! I canna’ get to his funds!”
“You expect me to believe that?” he asked.
“’Tis true.” Dallis looked down at the white satin of her overdress, pleated and draped for fullness, and watched it waver before going solid again.
“Then, give me that ring.”
Her eyes went wide. “I canna!”
Even if he wasn’t looking at her, he had to sense the panic in her voice.
“Of course, you can.”
“Nae, Giles. He made me vow to keep it on!”
“So?”
“I doona’ vow lightly. I canna’ take it off. You’ll have to wait. I can get funds.”
“I would wait, but time is short; I’ve been promised a hand-chopping if I doona’ come up with funds! I’m desperate. Or…perhaps you dinna’ note that in my tone when I said I’d await the champion.”
“He will na’ give you funds,” Dallis told him.
“If he wants my information, he will. Or wait. I’ve been short-sighted.” His tone changed, and he stood, starting to pace in front of her. One step past the length of the settee. Back the other way. Return.
“This knowledge I have. ’Twould be worth more to someone else, I think. Someone like…the king.”
“Nae!” Dallis stood with the cry, and then had to put a hand to her side as the child kicked mightily. She had to sit back down before she fell there.
“Or perhaps…better still…I could offer it to Laird Kilchurning. Now, there’s an avenue I’d na’ considered. Imagine how much he’d pay to know the wife paid to have her husband killed. Imagine how he’d use it.”
“Nae, Giles, nae. I beg of you.” She no longer cared if he saw her tears.
“I hold all the options, Dallis. You ken that now?”
“Please…Giles?”
Her nose was running, and she was going to be red-eyed and emotional, and a glance at the clock showed that Payton would be arriving momentarily.
“The ring, Dallis?”
“All right! All right!” She twisted and turned it, and worked at it. Then, licked at her finger to twist some more. It tore the skin of her knuckle, but it came off.
“You must promise me na’ to sell it here.”
“I doona’ have to promise you anything.”
“I’ll get you more, Giles. Please, Giles! I’ll find a way to pay you all you need! For as long as you need, but you have to promise me na’ to sell it to anyone outside of Inverness, or…or Glasgow. Or perhaps Aberdeen! You have to promise!”
He took the ring and lifted it, frowning as he did so.
“The champion gave you this…trifle? ’Tis na’ worth the time it took to gain it from you. I only hope I get enough funds for it that I will na’ bother you again a-fore your bairn is whelped. You’ll have more funds for me?”
She nodded.
“You vow it?”
She nodded again, looked at the clock, and couldn’t prevent the widening of her eyes.
“I vow it! I do. Now go! Go!”
He turned.
“And doona’ use the door he uses! Go through the one Aunt Evelyn is standing beside. Now, Giles, now!”
Her urgency must have translated to him. Or the promise of more funds if he did as she wanted worked the same, because Giles was at a jog before he reached the correct door.
Dallis watched it shut before pressing her fingertips to her eyes to wipe every hint of tears away, and then she gasped. There was a blood streak on the white satin from her finger. She licked at it, creasing her dress with the other hand into a fold that should hide the spot, and put the barren-looking hand beneath the curve of the bairn. Then, she moved along the bench to the left, making certain he’d sit on her right.
And then she prayed with all her being for the ability to deceive the man she loved. That’s when his door opened.
Chapter 24
Payton had an unsure, uncertain, and odd look about him. And that’s when he finally got close enough to tell. The one quick glance Dallis had of his approach showed her. She looked quickly back to the lump of belly, sniffed, and forced what she hoped was a welcome expression to her face.
“Dallis?”
His voice sounded different as well. He sat beside her, making the wood bow slightly with his weight, proving not only that Giles was the smaller man in that category as well, but that Payton wasn’t sitting with his usual forthright, self-confident, and assured manner. All of which was odd-strange. Dallis cast another glance at where he sat, cradling one of his hands within the other one. That made her grip to her skirt on the left side with the injured one.
“Aye?” she answered.
He didn’t answer at first. He just sat there, rolling his left hand over the inner one. And then he slid a glance to hers and shied away.
“I have something that needs saying,” he said.
“I have something to tell you.” She blurted it out almost as a harmony to him. Then they both laughed, but it was an insincere, uncomfortable sound. Dallis frowned at the white satin.
“You do?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You must hear me out first.”
Dallis swallowed, stilled where the left hand was clutching to material, and waited.
“The bairn…he’s well?”
“Oh, aye.” Dallis brought her right hand up to cradle the mound that was their child. It responded with a kick into her palm. “Payton! Quickly!” She turned to him and reached for his hand.
“What is it?” His whisper was light and caught up with the indrawn breath.
“He moves. Right here! Put your hand…right here.” She maneuvered his hand over the spot and held it in place. Waited. Looked up into perfectly lashed blue eyes and felt her heart skip. And then the babe responded, kicking rapidly three times. Right where she held him.
Payton’s eyes widened, went moist with an insta
nt sheen, and then he was pulling his hand from beneath hers and looking at the far wall.
“Did you feel it?” she asked.
“Aye,” he replied.
“Is it na’…wondrous?”
“Aye,” he repeated.
“He is such a strong bairn. The image of his sire. I just know it.”
He nodded.
“Then…why did you move away? You dinna’ want to feel it? You find it…offensive?”
“Nae, Dallis. Never that. ’Tis…me…who is offensive.”
Payton rose and walked over to one of the plastered walls, keeping his back to her. She would have gone to him, but something about him stopped her. She was forced to look at the back of his kilt, the wedged shape of his upper body, his bent head. Then, he straightened his shoulders and turned to her.
“You’ve made vows. Have na’ you, Dallis?”
“Aye,” she replied.
“And have you kept them?”
She lost her color. She almost lost her senses. She had to grip the seat bottom with both hands to stay in place until the floor ceased roiling beneath her and went back to being polished slats of wood.
“I…tried.” Her voice warbled. Now was the time to tell him. She opened her mouth but he filled the space with words.
“What if trying is na’ enough?”
“Some…vows are na’ possible to keep, Payton. The things against them are too…large. Too strong. Too…evil.” Her voice dropped.
“Then you will understand?” he asked.
She nodded.
He took another huge sigh. She could see the size of it from where she sat as it expanded his chest.
“What vow have you broken, Payton?”
“I have just come from seeing the king, Dallis.”
“He has na’ made things worse for us, has he?”
“He wants me to fight. A great battle. Against a champion of his choosing.”
“What will you get?”
“Your freedom.”
The babe lurched to one side, and she moved her hand as if to balance it, before hiding it again.
“And…yours?” she asked.
He nodded.
“And you dinna’ agree?” She was shocked. Angered. Dismayed.
“’Twill be to the death, Dallis.”
“You must na’ do it then. Nae, Payton. What if you lose?”
“I doona’ lose, Dallis. And I will be able to get you to our home. Our bairn will be born in our home. If I do this for him.”
“What of Kilchurning’s claim?”
“He nae longer believes Kilchurning.”
“What?” She was on her feet now, even if the bairn didn’t like it and made her arch backward to balance the weight.
“He says Kilchurning told him of the lie already.”
“When?” she asked.
“A month past. Does it matter?”
“Does it matter?” Her voice was rising. He’d never heard her at screech level. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“He’s na’ going to let me go. Kilchurning must have guessed that. And used it. To save his head.”
“When do I get my revenge on the little bastard, then?” Dallis said between clenched teeth.
“Nae one gets such on a Stewart,” Payton replied.
“I mean Kilchurning! The king promised me Kilchurning when his lie was discovered!”
“Our king…is a verra sharp man, Dallis. Verra. His cunning and skills are difficult to grasp if one has na’ been about them for long.”
“He’s na’ going to give me Kilchurning?”
Payton shook his head.
“Why not? He decreed it!”
“You should sit down, love.”
“I’ll sit down when I’m damned good and ready to sit down. How dare that man cheat me?”
“He is na calling it a cheat.”
“Of course not. He’s a man. And a king, above that. They never call themselves cheats and frauds, and scoundrels!”
“Dallis—”
“That man has made this entire time horrid for me! For you. For us! What excuse could he possibly use to prevent me from having Kilchurning’s head in justice?”
“His decree was that you could devise the punishment when the lie was discovered.”
“And?” Dallis waited.
“The lie was na’ discovered. Kilchurning gave it up.”
“Nae. I refuse to accept such! You march right back in there and tell that man—”
“Dallis. You’re upsetting yourself, and the bairn. I canna’ tell a king anything. He’s a king! Aside of which, I’m a-feared to be back in his presence.”
“You? A-feared?” She spat the words with her disgust.
“Aye. Of what I might do to him. And what that will cost. Now, please. Sit. Calm yourself. I told you our sovereign is a verra sharp man. Verra. ’Twill take more in smarts to escape this trap he has set for me.”
Dallis closed her mouth. Sat. And folded her arms across her belly.
“Are you going to fight for him?” she asked.
“I doona’ think so.”
“Good. He should na’ win everything.”
Payton smirked. “He always wins, Dallas. One way or the other. Look at us. ’Tis a perfect example.”
“Why?”
“He has me where he wants…because he uses you as bait.”
Dallis’s eyes went wide enough, the babe kicked his displeasure.
“And Kilchurning used it to get his pardon.”
“He pardoned him?” She lost her voice on the word. It was the shock.
“Fifteen minutes!”
The door opened with the information. Dallis cursed at the man. His brows rose, and then he shook his head and shut the door.
“Laird Kilchurning gave the king the power he needed to use against me. He wanted me back on his list, making him money. Kilchurning gave it to him.”
“Then, cease fighting.”
He shook his head.
“The bairn will be birthed any day now, Payton. You ken it. I do, as well. We can last that long. We can.”
“His vengeance is far worse than you can imagine, Dallis. Far worse. If I wait for my son’s birth…I give him another target.”
“Jesu’!” Dallis cried out.
He was coming toward the settee now, and Dallis barely had time to hide her hand beneath her skirt before he arrived and sat beside her and picked up the other one.
“Aside from which…the king said something to me. Something…that I had to admit the truth of. And I have to live with now.”
“What?”
“He said I may claim na’ to fight anymore, and I may vow otherwise, but the moment I agreed to enter a list in order to see you…I made it false. All he has to do is set terms and negotiate the sum. I am the one who disavowed my own words. Me.”
“You doona’ believe such swine-sop…do you?”
“Here.” He held out his right hand, bruised black across the top knuckles. “Do you see that?”
She nodded.
“That is a man’s life. Taken this day. On the list.”
Dallis moved her hand to his, lifted it, and then kissed the bruise mark. “He deserved it,” she told him. “You had nae other choice.”
He smiled. “I do love you, Dallis Dunn-Fadden. I may na’ deserve you, but I do love you.”
“You do deserve me, Payton. And I understand. Everything. Some vows are difficult to keep. Things conspire against one. Sometimes—”
“One minute!”
“God damn you, Randall!” Dallis was on her feet and hollering the curse at the guardsman. Payton was the one hauling her back into his lap and laughing when she got there.
“Jesu’, Mary, and Joseph. You’ve gained four stones in weight, Wife. I can barely heft you, anymore.”
“You just wait, Payton Dunn-Fadden. I’ll show you heft.”
Dallis lifted her right hand to his cheek to cup it and hold him, while arching up for a kiss. It
only worked because he helped, lifting her to assist with the embrace. They’d just connected when the guard opened the door with the expiration of time.
“There’s someone here to see you, My Laird.”
Payton looked up from the writing desk, amazed that he’d made sensible sentences in the love sonnet he was attempting, and not just dribbled massive quantities of ink. He was rather proud of the execution of her name, as well, with high swirls and calligraphic style.
“What does he want?” he asked, and redipped his quill tip…just barely, and then he patted it with a gentle motion, to keep the ink where it belonged.
There was some verbal murmuring happening in the antechamber and then Martin came back to the archway. “He says it’s something of immense value. To you. And only you.”
“Everyone has something of immense value for me,” Payton replied with a smirk, and started on the next line of his poem. “Find out what it is.”
He heard more voices, louder this time, and then Martin was back.
“He will na’ say. He will na’ release it, and he will na’ leave.”
“Then shut the door.” Payton lifted a bit of sand from the tray and sprinkled it across his latest word, and then bent sideways to blow it gently away. He probably looked and acted contrary to everything his followers believed of a king’s champion. He didn’t care.
“He says if you doona’ want it, he’ll take it to Kilchurning, then. The offer there is for forty-two gold crowns.”
Payton finished blowing, put the quill atop his letter, and pushed the stool back. It was just as well. He’d over-filled the last loop of the word love. It had filled in with ink and no longer resembled a letter, let alone the one it was supposed to be.
“Forty-two gold crowns is a lot of gold. Verra few men can even heft it. Let me see what he has.”
Payton was sandwiched between two of his Honor Guard as he went through to the antechamber. He didn’t need them, but their curiosity was aroused. As was his.
The man at the door looked vaguely familiar. Payton couldn’t quite decide why. His hair was reminiscent of Dallis’s, but there the resemblance ended. He was a courtier. That was obvious. No Highland wear corrupted the frills and beribboned attire he wore.
“What clan is he from?” he asked Martin. Martin turned from him to ask it.
“You dinna’ even ask that. Jesu’, Martin. You are a poor agent. Give the item here. I’ll decide if ’tis worth forty-two gold crowns, or forty-two blows from my fist.”